Never Really Escaping
by Elipsa
Summary: He had been sentenced to Azkaban for life. He should never have felt the sun's warmth again. He shouldn't have felt the cool breeze. He shouldn't have heard birds. But Bloody Potter had to be noble and got him out. What did Draco lose in his time in Azkaban? And would going to Forks, Washington, help heal him? Not likely.
1. Prologue

Darkness isn't black. Not completely. Once someone sits in the darkness for long enough shapes began to take form and grow definition instead of formless blobs. They take on a different tints of color and things that couldn't be seen before were soon easily seen.

Where he stayed, light couldn't reach him. When he first arrived, he could see nothing. Now he could make out the cracks in the stone pieces, the bars that kept him from the outside world, the forms of hooded creatures that floated by. He could see the empty cell in front of him and the two edges of the cells beside the one in front. Walls surrounded the other three walls and he could see nothing further from the hall unless he pressed himself to the bars to peer out of his cell.

The only things that he could feel crawled over his skin, the goosebumps never leaving his body. Cold breath floating over to him, the stones around him unable to hold any heat. If he gripped the cell bars, his fingers would turn icy and grow numb.

At first he tried to ignore the screams, to keep them at bay from his mind. Over time he realized that the screams were all different; some were angry, others anguished and still others filled with pain.

Pain so deep, so indistinguishable, that the only way to release that feeling was through sound. If the emotion didn't escape, it would tear the person apart from the inside far faster than anything else in that place.

As time went on, he stopped trying to ignore the screams and instead began to listen. Stories hid in the cries with other hidden emotions. That's how he continued on; not thriving, but not completely wasting away.

When his turn came, when the freezing fingers of their breath came and pulled his memories to the front of his mind, he screamed his own story.

Pain. Confusion. Death. Terror. Pride.

Death. Mostly death.

When he felt he would crack, that he would lose himself, he retreated into his own mind. He could still feel, but everything became muted.

There, in his mind, he had time to think. Of his parents, of his mission, of his decisions, of his past. And when his thoughts threatened to consume him he returned to his world of screams.

The concept of time didn't exist. They came with no pattern, coming whenever they decided to feast on his emotions. Light couldn't penetrate where he stayed so he couldn't track days. Screams only told of lives passed and the emotions of the present, not time. Food came randomly. Sometimes as soon as they finished and sometimes didn't come until he was faint with hunger.

Any muscles he had at some point disintegrated before his very eyes. They dwindled until his skin barely stretched over his bones.

So he could have been there weeks - malnourished and stress ruining his body more quickly than what was normal - or he could have been there for years and he would never know.

Still, he expected to never see light or another face again. The ones who brought him food mostly wore masks or hoods that covered their features. Others disillusioned themselves so they didn't quite look like humans. Or perhaps that had been his mind playing tricks on him.

"Malfoy."

Hmm... that name had once meant something. Power. Prestige. Now the name lay in tattered ruins, not that it mattered anyway. The Malfoys were all dead. Except him. He got to survive. Why him? Why?

"Malfoy."

They were trying a new tactic: new memories, old people. Old pain, new words. New type of food for them. Maybe they were going to bring up the memory from the bathroom, when all he felt was hot, searing pain.

"Malfoy!"

He definitely recognized the voice as annoyed as it sounded. The voice also sounded too real.

Taking a deep breath, Draco opened his eyes. His body shivered as the cold seemed to seep into him, berating him for forgetting about it.

Sure enough, though, Potter stood outside the bars of his cell.

Dark circles lay under his eyes, the green color more muted than Draco remembered from school. Potter's lips turned up into a semblance of a smile before it disappeared

The man's shoulders were tense and Draco could easily tell that the other wizard didn't want to be there.

"Malfoy," Potter sighed, his eyes closing for a moment. "I'm here to take you away."

Draco uncurled himself, his arms releasing his knees as he forced himself to sit up from his lying position on the floor. The energy he used sapped his whole strength and he swayed violently at the new position.

 _Out?_ His mind whispered. _Out? OUT?_

"Malfoy?"

The door clanged open, metal screeching against stone, Draco barely able to hear the sound.

 _Out? Life-time imprisonment, though... Out?_

 _Cold, so cold._

 _Lies. Like always. Always lies._

 _He lies!_

"Malfoy?"

Draco shrank away, bowing his head in his knees, he shoulders shaking.

 _Would Potter lie about this?_

A hand pressed gently on his shoulder and Draco flinched at the alien touch. But he looked up into Potter's eyes, which were soft and held no visible deception.

"Come on, lets get out of here."

 _No, he wouldn't._

Draco took the offered hand and attempted to stand, but Potter pulled too hard, too quickly.

Draco's world spun and he didn't remember anything else.

* * *

A/N IMPORTANT MESSAGE: Hi everyone! if you haven't seen my profile, then let me tell you what I'm doing. This is the first of 5 stories I'm posting today. I've been stuck on writing because I've been juggling between all the stories in my head. I'm going to focus on the story that gets the most views/follows/favorites/reviews ect ect. in the next week. I'll be doing a tally on 2-25-18.

God help me… Harry Potter and Twilight… Gah… The reason I say this: I don't like Bella because she is a really bad role model and there are some… questionable themes - at least in my opinion.

On that note, the Bella in this story is going to be different. She won't be 'bad' or 'evil', just… different. Edward as well…

And I actually did research on Twilight so I could use facts from that… be proud of me! Lol.

And a random thought: apparently I can't stay away from Draco for too long…

Some chapters will be long, others short. No promises on the lengths.

Unbetaed


	2. Chapter 1

Draco stood with his back pressed against the tiled wall. Droplets of water fell from the shower head to land on his toes. They were scalding hot and sent bullets of pain up his legs. The heat unbearable. He stared at the tiles, memorizing the grouts path.

The heat couldn't go lower.

Potter must have charmed the shower so Draco couldn't have it on freezing as he had in…

Shuddering, Draco threw that thought away. He wouldn't think about that.

He didn't have to go back.

After a few minutes of standing uncomfortably in the shower, his feet grew numb and Draco inched his feet forward a little, so that only a bit of his leg entered the water and slowly accumulated that part of him to the heat.

He relished in the feeling of having his glasses off his face for the first time in a year. When he didn't have to worry about the tests that would follow.

 _White walls; a hard bed; thin sheets; a freezing room._

He shook his head.

He left the shower stall and the water automatically stopped falling. He stood in the room, his legs still numb.

Walking out of the bathroom, he stared at the clock on the wall facing the door. He had been in there for fifteen minutes and he couldn't get his head under the water.

Turning right, he opened the door in front of him and stared at the clothes. Trousers - jeans - hung on the left with white and blue button down shirts. On the right side of the closet hung nicer trousers, shirts of multiple colors, turtleneck sweaters, thin sweaters, vests and jackets.

His boots lined underneath his clothes. A dresser pressed against the right wall held four cabinets. The top held his pants and socks. The one under held his ties and cuff-links. The next held folded t-shirts. The last held his sweatpants.

All of them - except the ones in the two bottom cabinets - were his clothing before…

Again, he shook his head.

Grabbing a pair of dark blue sweatpants, Draco pulled them on, his body accustomed to the coarse material.

Walking out, he headed into the master bedroom and straight out. He ignored the large king size bed he hadn't slept in since he came to the small town five days prior.

Nothing else stood in the huge room.

The door of his bedroom led straight into the living room.

The TV in the room had yet to be used and he highly doubted it ever would be. Potter had explained all the muggle inventions that the house held, but Draco hadn't really paid attention to the rambling man.

His shoulders shook at the thought of the wild haired man, but he went into the kitchen. His eyes closed when his bare feet touched the cool tile and his whole body relaxed.

Walking to the kitchen table, he caught sight of the letter he had kept there.

Granger had left it there for him.

 _Bushy head of hair. Slap to the face. Pain filled eyes. Mudblood. Words carved into skin._

Draco clutched the table in front of him, the edges digging into his palms.

He looked at the note and skimmed over it.

Apologizing for not knowing about prison, about what happened in the hospital afterwords. About his family - something about Taha Aki - and the Black Tapestry.

A man named Billy stopping by with another named Sam.

Magic awakening and creating shapeshifters under certain circumstances.

Vampires… who called themselves vegetarians - those who feed off animals.

 _Cruel laughter. Muggles nothing more than simple minded sheep. Black eyes. Blood, fangs, claws._

Taking a deep breath, Draco continued to skim the letters contents.

Working at a school if he wanted. Go outside, be around people - but not required to speak with them - and get his body accustomed to work and movement. He didn't have to. The option was open.

The job would be as a janitor - a cleaning person.

His Gringott's account was unfrozen and he could receive his funds; his spendings would be watched, though.

His old belongings would be sent - had already been sent and placed.

Expect to see Billy and Sam on Saturday. Meeting the principal on Sunday at ten if he wished the position; the principal would wait until noon. If Draco didn't come, the position wouldn't be open and there would be no hard feelings.

The principal knew he had been in some sort of jail without company and light for four years with a year in the hospital afterward.

Draco pushed away from the table, the note and the bowl of fresh fruit.

It was Saturday and the two coming knew everything.

The war and his life afterward.

He grabbed his glasses that lay on the counter. The thin frames surrounded lenses that had been charmed so he saw everything in dark greys, like he would have if he had been thrown back into the darkness. Light couldn't penetrate the lens and his eyes would stay shielded. It didn't keep out direct sunlight so he couldn't go outside on days without cloud coverage.

Though he hadn't tested that theory outside yet. It had only been in one of the tests that…

 _Stop…_

He heard the sound of something roaring in the background, coming closer.

 _Snarls and laughter intermingled with the roars. Calls and shouts and screams and yells and sound. So much sound._

His hands slapped up to his ears, his body crumpling to the floor, his eyes squeezing shut. His glasses dangled between his ear and hand, the plastic digging into his skin.

 _Werewolves, vampires, trolls, giants running, rushing, sprinting, moving towards their goal: Hogwarts, students, teachers, his mom, him._

Silence.

No roars. No snarls. No laughter.

Silence.

No calls. No shouts. No screams.

Silence.

A pounding on wood.

Silence.

Another bout of pounding on wood.

Someone was knocking.

Billy? And… someone else. Scott? Sebastian? Stephan? Seth? No.

"Is he even here yet?" The voice sounded mature, yet young.

More knocking.

Saul? Steve? Spencer? Shaun? Samuel? Sam… the other name was Sam.

"That girl -" The second voice was older. Billy? His great-great-great - too many greats to count - cousin, or something.

"Hermione," the young one interrupted the elder.

Granger had spoken to them?

"-said that they would have him here by Thursday. It's Saturday."

"He could be outside."

Silence greeted those words.

"Fair point."

Another pound on the door.

"Let us in, boy. Something could've happened."

The door creaked open and light spilled in. A hiss escaped his lips and he hurried to put on his glasses.

"Hello?" The younger - Sam - spoke. "I heard something."

"Well, find him."

Neither had closed the door.

Draco struggled to his feet, but then he smelled it: outside. Grass, dirt, rain, fresh air.

Not stone, urine, feces, sterile rooms or perfume.

Outside air.

"Hey!"

Draco didn't hear the voice. Didn't see the man in the wheelchair or the young man behind the contraption. Didn't register that anyone else stood in his vicinity.

He passed them blindly until he stood clutching the door frame, his eyes closed and gulping down mouthfuls of air. His chest heaved, his fingers trembled and he sank to his knees.

Finally drawing the courage to look, he forgot to breathe. A field lay before him, trees circling the end of it. Clouds rolled around and through each other high above; birds flitted from branch to branch.

Unsoiled.

"Draco?"

He flinched at the voice so close to him. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the young man crouching down off to the side of him, hands held up in an easy way.

"I'm Sam Uley. This is Billy Black. I'm going to sit here." To prove his words, Sam did exactly that, his chin length hair swaying around his face due to his motion and the wind.

The _wind_.

Draco turned back to the open air, ignoring the wind and the rain.

He breathed in and knew then that he would go to the school the next day to talk to the headmaster - _principal_ , his mind corrected.

Any reason to be outside he would take.

Draco soon forgot about the two who kept him company.

* * *

Yellow eyes opened to met a matching pair. Small lips pulled into a frown and arms wrapped around a trim waist. "There's someone coming."

"Who?"

"I don't know." Glancing to her left, she smiled at the blonde staring at her. His head cocked and his eyes narrowed in thought. "I'm not sure if I like him coming here."

A hand placed itself on her shoulder and she met her brother's stare. "We'll handle it, and it didn't look bad."

"What happened?" The drawling accent had the petite woman to once more look at the blonde.

"A human. He…" she paused, biting her lip.

"He's different and the vision wasn't… vivid. Just a bunch of images flashing by instead of a scene." He removed his hand from the woman's shoulder.

"Then why the hesitancy?"

"Jasper… you were completely at ease with him and I don't know why or understand what's so different about him. He just didn't seem… normal."

Jasper walked forward, pulling her into his arms and burying his nose in her hair. "We'll take it day by day."

"Alright."

* * *

A/N IMPORTANT MESSAGE: Hi everyone! if you haven't seen my profile, then let me tell you what I'm doing. This is the first of 5 stories I'm posting today. I've been stuck on writing because I've been juggling between all the stories in my head. I'm going to focus on the story that gets the most views/follows/favorites/reviews ect ect. in the next week. I'll be doing a tally on 2-25-18.

Sam shifted for the first time when he was a senior, so either late 2003 or early 2004, but I had to change that to fit this story. He had changed a year earlier - I'm going to say early August 2002, two months before Draco's appearance and after when I'm saying the Cullen's arrived: June of 2002. Sam is 16, almost 17 - his birthday, I'm saying, is in January, 1986.

Unbeta'd


End file.
